If you have someone that you think is the one … take that person and travel around the world. Buy a plane ticket for the two of you to travel all around the world and go to places that are hard to go to and hard to get out of. And … when you land at JFK and you’re still in love with that person, get married.
Bill Murray while giving an impromptu speech at a bachelor party that he crashed in Charleston, SC yesterday (via accidentalocean)

I had a very vivid dream I was in Edinburgh last night. I blame Rhys Darby on the Nerdist for setting the scene in my head. it was an amazing dream. I somehow was there by myself for 2 days. but I had found myself there somehow as like a pit stop on my way to Spain (something tells me I fled my life in NYC and ditched the boof at this point). I was in a hostel with others trying to understand their language. I was riding the bus which seemed to be flying down very steep hills at a speed that affected no one but me. I then was trying to figure out how to get to the airport and buy the first ticket out of Scotland to Spain. no one could give me a direct answer and time kept slipping by. I never made it to the airport. I remember looking out a window into views of old stone castles and grey skies. it was indeed very creepy like Rhys and Chris Hardwick described. but I wasn’t scared, I was actually very excited.

then I woke up.

“I think my stomach’s trying to eat itself,” Grant says as we make our way along the sand-sprinkled, tiled promenade. The streets lined with moonlit 19th-century buildings steer us to loud, bustling bars with gritty, distinguished storefronts and Basque-lettered awnings. We decide to try eating at as many of them as humanly possible.

A Fork in the Road

this sums up my entire trip to Spain. WHY DON’T I LIVE THERE!? is something I ask myself every fucking day.

The World, in sending its bright little correspondent upon such a novel, yet hazardous mission, has with one unique stroke accomplished more for my sex than could have been achieved in any other way in a decade, wrote Maddox. This odd but clever departure from every rule that has heretofore governed the newspaper kingdom is a stirring editorial upon woman’s pluck and woman’s energy and swings wide open the door that leads to success in every branch of the world of letters. It also goes a long way toward proving that the gentler sex, released from depreciating influences and given a sound body to co-operate with the divine inspiration of the mind, may compete most successfully with the brightest men of the day.
Dorothy Maddox on Nellie Bly and Elizabeth Bisland’s race around the world, Eighty Days
It was possible, as with a child’s grab bag, to reach in anywhere and pull out a treasure; and to do so with the same sensation of wondrous delight. That was what this trip had given her — the vividness of a new world, where one was for the first time, as Tennyson had written, Lord of the senses five, where the light of night and day had a new meaning, where years of indifference could fall away like a dried-up husk and every sense respond with the keenness of faculties newborn. Even much later, she felt sure, not a line would have faded or grown dim; she would be able to recall every impression, every sensation, as though not an hour divided her from it. It was well, she told herself, to have thus once really lived.
Elizabeth Bisland, Eighty Days